Alex's Christmas
by theHuntgoeson
Summary: Alex expects to spend her first Christmas in the 1980s alone, but an unexpected Cupid has other ideas...
1. The Invitation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes, but I wouldn't object to having Gene in my Christmas stocking!**

******"The Night Before Christmas" was written by Clement Clarke Moore, and last Sunday I saw Philip Glenister read it to the Flicker Club at the Hampstead Theatre.**

**Once again, I have to apologise for not having posted anything for months. A combination of work pressures, an unprecedented number of music reviews, and the delicious distraction of the gorgeous Mr Glenister in "This House" at the National Theatre, have all left me with no time at all to post anything. I've managed to scrape together the time to write the first chapter of my Christmas fic for this year and most of the second, so I'm posting the first chapter now and will post the second as soon as I finish it, hopefully before the New Year. I also hope to resume posting of "Much Ado" and "The Beginning of an Era" in the near future.**

**In the meantime, a Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy, wealthy, Ashy New Year to one and all – and any reviews would be a wonderful Christmas present!**

In the days after her parents died, Alex felt herself withdrawing from the world. She worked, she ate, she slept, but everything she did was mechanical, and she felt hugely distant from everyone around her. She had seen too many cases of depression not to recognise the signs in herself, but she felt powerless to resist the black cloud that engulfed her.

What started to pull her back to life, was the approach of Christmas. She had always taken a childlike delight in all the trappings of the festive season, and she remembered how her pleasure in the decorations, presents and carols had helped her to face her first Christmas without her parents when she was eight years old. She realised now, how Evan must have strained every nerve and muscle to make sure that the day was as good for her as possible. They had spent it quietly together, as she had no relatives to invite her to join them, and her friends and their families had avoided including her to their celebrations, doubtless because they had no idea how to deal with a grieving child. But he had given her beautiful presents and a delicious dinner, and they had played games and watched television in the evening, and she had been allowed to stay up far later than usual. It had all been lovely. _Now I come to think of it, we did have a visitor that day, who had Christmas dinner with us. Why can't I remember who it was?_

Now, she found that the sight of the shop windows full of seasonal displays, the gleaming lights festooned across the streets, the Salvation Army playing and collecting for charity outside Liverpool Street station, the Christmas trees shining in living room windows, the huge crib and tree in Trafalgar Square, all awakened her delight and made her take some pleasure in living again. The one thing that was almost impossible to endure, was the thought that Molly would be spending Christmas without her. But she took some comfort in the fact that it might not be Christmas in the waking world. If, as she believed, this was all a dream, she hoped that she would wake up to find that it was still Molly's birthday. She reminded herself that she would have to enjoy Christmas for her daughter, and for her younger self, as well as for herself. Who knew, perhaps she could do something for her younger self this Christmas which would send her home. That would be the best present of all.

As her connection with her surroundings returned, she took an interest in her colleagues' plans for the season. She knew that Chris would be spending the day with Shaz and her parents, and that Ray would be with his latest girlfriend, whoever that might be at the time. Viv would be hosting a substantial gathering of several branches of his extended family. But of Gene's plans she knew nothing. She wondered whether he might be going back to Manchester, perhaps to be with his mother, if she was still alive. She guessed that his father must have died by now. Given his curmudgeonly attitude towards any mention of the festivities, it was more likely that he would spend it getting pissed on his flat, or that he would be on duty. She told herself that it was none of her business. But she did wonder.

She guessed that he must have been surprised by her uncharacteristic lassitude and inattention in the days following her parents' deaths. _Probably he thinks I just couldn't take seeing two people going up in smoke. He's right, I couldn't, but he'll never know why. _He had tried to pull her back to life in his own rough, kindly way, spending ages talking with her every night at Luigi's, buying her drinks, immersing her in complex cases which demanded all her attention and left her no time to brood, and picking spectacular quarrels with her which she found oddly stimulating. When she was with him, whether working, fighting, talking, arguing or boozing, she felt alive. She told herself that she felt like that towards him because she had seen him rescuing her younger self. The psychologist in her stubbornly refused to consider the possibility that the real reason for her feelings might be very different.

On 11 December, while CID were fully occupied in festooning the office with tinsel, streamers, holly and mistletoe, Gene came to the door of his office and barked, "Drake. A word." He spoke in the tones he usually reserved for those in deepest trouble.

_Oh, dear, what have I done this time?_ Searching her conscience for misdemeanours and finding nothing, except perhaps the fact that she had let him buy all her drinks the previous evening, she handed the tinsel she held to Shaz and made her way cautiously across the office, narrowly avoiding Chris as he fell off a desk while trying to fix a bundle of holly to a light fitting.

"Come in." Gene stood aside for her to enter his sanctum, closed the door behind him, and perched on the edge of his desk, clearly ill at ease. There was a short, uncomfortable silence, which Alex was about to break when he said in a rush, "Bols. Need your advice."

She relaxed. At least it didn't look as though she was in any trouble. "What about, Guv?"

"What would an eight-year-old kid want for Christmas?"

Her face softened. "Donny? Oh, that's kind, Guv. Well, what did you like when you were eight?"

He blushed furiously. "No. Not Donny. Alex Price."

Her jaw dropped. "A - ?"

"Yeah, White rang me up this morning. Said 'e asked 'er what she wants for Christmas, an' she said she wants the Gene Genie to come for Christmas dinner."

"_You_?" Alex's mind was reeling. _Gene? Was Gene our visitor on Christmas Day? The one I couldn't remember?_

"Yeah, bloody stupid idea if you ask me. Seeing me'll remind 'er of things she should be trying to forget. But, well, I can't disappoint 'er, kid'll 'ave a bad enough time this Christmas as it is, so I told 'im I'd come..." His voice tailed away in embarrassment.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Alex said warmly. "She needs friends, and you're her friend. You were needed, and you were there."

"Yeah, well..." He slammed his palms down on the desk. "What'll she want for Christmas? You've told me you've got a daughter. What do kids that age like?"

She thought for a moment. _I wasn't able to change the past to save my parents, but might I manage it now, with something very small? Might that send me home? _"I know what _I_ wanted for Christmas when I was eight, but I didn't get it."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it was a lovely pyjama case, a toy pony with a zip in his back. Black, with a white blaze, mane and tail and a red bridle. I saw him in a shop window, and I adored him. I'd just lost my parents then, like Alex."

"Oh, Bols. I never knew." If Gene Hunt could ever be said to look sympathetic, he did then.

"No reason you should. I've never told you." She strove to sound offhand. "I had a guardian, and he was kind to me, but I felt so alone. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and I told him that I wanted the pony. But - " she sighed - "it was so like him, he had to go bigger, brighter and better in every way, to demonstrate that he was giving me the best of everything. He gave me a rocking-horse instead. It was beautiful, and in time I came to love it, but it wasn't what I'd wanted. I was so lonely, and I needed something soft and warm that I could cuddle and talk to and confide in, not a great big lump of wood on rockers."

"Hm." She could almost hear his imagination running riot at the thought of her wanting to cuddle something. "So, um, you think something like that'll do for Alex?"

"I'm sure it will." She saw him reddening again at the very thought of going into a toy shop, and took pity on him. "In fact, I saw one just like it in the window of John Lewis the other day." _The very one that I saw and wanted when I was eight._ "I've got to do some Christmas shopping this weekend. Would you like me to get it for you, and we can settle up later?"

"Yeah, sure, that'll be great. Thanks. Let me know what the damage is."

"Of course. Would you like it gift wrapped? The shop does a wrapping service."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks. Fine. Right. Any joy on that forgery case yet?"

She understood that the subject was closed for the time being. "Not yet, Guv. Fenchurch West have just sent me their file, and I'm going through it. It might be worth pulling Adamson in for questioning. They interviewed him and he denied all knowledge, but his speech patterns indicate that he wasn't telling the truth."

"Right. Get Chris to lasso 'im."

"Yes, Guv."

As she left his office, she was instantly aware of her colleagues' interested stares. _I've been talking with the Guv in private. God knows what they might be speculating. Time to nip this in the bud._

"Chris."

"Er, yes, Boss?" Chris crawled out from under a collapsed Christmas tree.

"Bring Tony Adamson in. The Guv wants to grill him on the forgeries."

"Yes, Boss."

"And take that tinsel out of your hair before you go!"

-oO0Oo-

Alex found her dream pony in John Lewis - or rather, she found him again, right where her eight-year-old self had been obliged to leave him, all those years ago - _or rather, last week in 1981 time. I was so unhappy when Evan hurried me away. I realise now, he must have already decided to buy me the rocking horse instead. But I always did know what I want._ A blond, blue-eyed image unaccountably formed in her mind, and she quickly dismissed it.

Tucking the pony under her arm, she wandered past the loaded shelves in the general direction of the cash desk, and stopped short at the sight of another childhood wish, one which had never been satisfactorily fulfilled.

_I always wanted a Barbie doll, but Mummy wouldn't get me one because she thought they were sexist, and Evan wouldn't either. He must have been too much in awe of her memory to get me something of which he knew she would have disapproved. He did get me one eventually, but I was twelve by then, and it was too late. I was outgrowing dolls. I doubt I ever took it out of its box. _

_But what if I got my younger self one now? I'd make her, my, Christmas that much happier, and maybe it would break the pattern. Maybe that would send me home. _

She gravitated towards the shelf full of Barbie dolls in their gaily coloured display boxes and thought herself back to the way she was when she was eight years old. Which would she have wanted most? She quickly decided on a golden-haired Sunsational Malibu Barbie in a pink swimsuit which left little to the imagination, picked up a box, and headed purposefully for the counter.

Getting a present for Evan was easy. She dropped into Oddbins and got a bottle of his favourite Chateauneuf du Pâpe. She was tempted to add a bottle of the very best single malt for Gene, but something gave her pause. He could have taken the easy way out and bought her younger self something which required no effort, such as a book token or a magazine subscription, but instead he had taken the trouble to consult her about what the child would really want, and, astonishingly, had accepted her advice. The least she could do, was to take the same amount of trouble over his present. Inspiration struck when she walked past a jewellers' with a window display of small gold zodiac pendants. She knew that Gene's birthday was in February, but...

"I'll have the lion pendant, please," she informed the jeweller. "If I pay extra, could you engrave three words on the back?"

"Certainly, Madam. What are they?"

-oO0Oo-

She handed the gift-wrapped pony over to Gene, receiving £10.50 and a deliberately unintelligible mumble of thanks. Handing over her own gift to her younger self proved to be more of a problem. She had planned to call at the house a couple of evenings before Christmas to pass the gift and the bottle to Evan, but a huge case blew up on 22 December which required two all-night stakeouts at the docks to nail a gang trying to smuggle massive quantities of illegal booze into the capital in an attempt to make a profit from the festive season. It was a mercy that they were able to catch the bastards and intercept the shipment on their second attempt, as the bottles labelled as finest Rioja were actually filled with low-grade, high strength industrial alcohol coloured with Ribena. If any of them had been sold and the contents consumed, the results could have been fatal.

"Though if Luigi 'ad sold it to us as house rubbish, we probably wouldn't 'ave noticed the difference," Gene sourly remarked to Alex.

Despite the overwhelming evidence the suspects' lawyers - who fortunately did not include Evan - were magnificently obstructive, which meant that the process of interviewing and charging, with the resultant paperwork, took most of the day on Christmas Eve, and Alex's attempt to slip away at beer o'clock was frustrated by Chris insistently dragging her to Luigi's for the station's Christmas party. By the time she could decently leave, she knew that it was too late for her to cross London and knock on Evan's door to deliver the presents, and in any case she had by that time had far too much to drink.

So be it. She would just have to make a flying visit to hand them over on Christmas morning. It wasn't as if she had any plans for the day. She would be alone in the building, as the restaurant would be closed, and Luigi had told her that he and his wife would be spending the day with her relatives, a dynasty of Italian restauranteurs in Kingston. Alex would be spending her first, and hopefully only, Christmas in her coma world watching TV, thinking of Molly, and, all too probably, crying and getting miserably drunk.

She was more concerned that she had not been able to give Gene his present. It would have been more than her life and their reputations were worth to hand it to him in front of a gossipy posse of coppers, and there had been no suitable moment when they had been alone together, either before or during the party, for her to hand it over. True, he had not given her anything, but she had not expected it. He had not given anything to anyone else in the team, so she told herself that there was no reason why he should single her out.

She awakened on Christmas morning with a queasy stomach and an aching head, twin legacies of her excessive libations of alcohol the previous night, which she determinedly dispelled with paracetamol, two bananas and a lavish fry-up. It was past 11.00 before she was in any fit state to commandeer a pool car from the station and make the journey across town to Evan's house. She had not visited it since coming to the 1980s, and seeing the house which had been her home for so much of her childhood awakened a host of memories, both happy and sad. She was relieved to see that the only car parked outside was Evan's. It would have been awkward if Gene were there already. With a sudden shock, she realised that his present was still in her pocket. She resolved to drop into the station on her return home and leave it on his desk. Even though he was off duty, he would almost certainly look in there after seeing little Alex.

She rang the doorbell, and waited a long time before Evan came to the door. He wore an apron and a harassed expression.

"Alex! What a surprise! Won't you come in?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Evan. This is just a flying visit to wish you both a merry Christmas. This is for you, and this is for - " She paused and sniffed the air. "Sorry, can I smell burning?"

"Oh, my God!" Evan turned tail and raced off down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. After a moment's hesitation, Alex followed, closing the door behind her and leaving her presents on the hall table. She did not recall a kitchen fire that Christmas, but if there was one, maybe someone had helped Evan put it out. And if she had changed the course of events by visiting at that moment, it might be up to her to stop her younger self being burned to a crisp.

There was a fair amount of smoke in the kitchen, emanating from a saucepan on the cooker. Evan was opening the window as she arrived, and she briskly helped herself to a dishcloth, wrapped it around her hand, turned the ring off, removed the smoking saucepan, and cautiously looked inside. It contained the remains of a Christmas pudding which had boiled dry. The plastic bowl had welded immovably to the bottom of the saucepan.

"Thanks, Alex." Evan joined her. He looked disconsolately into the saucepan. "Oh, damn! I thought I'd left enough water in it. I've never cooked a Christmas pudding before, can't stand the stuff myself, but Alex adores it."

"Yes, I do, that is, I do too."

"I hate disillusioning her," Evan went on remorsefully. "She thinks I'm a brilliant cook. I can manage the day-to-day stuff, but this has me beaten."

"Never mind," Alex said consolingly. She looked at the smoking remains of the pudding. "Let's see. I _might_ be able to salvage some of this for you, but it'll mean small portions all round. Or do you have anything you can for use for dessert instead of this?"

"Well, I have got another pudding," Evan admitted. "I bought it for New Year's Eve. But how do I know that it won't go up in smoke as well? I followed the instructions, and look what's happened."

"You didn't cover it with foil, just for a start," Alex said severely. "Even if it hadn't boiled dry, it would have been waterlogged. And you have to make sure that the water level is halfway up the side of the bowl. You must watch it like a hawk, keep a kettle boiling all the time and top up the saucepan whenever the water level's getting low." She glanced at the saucepan in her hand. "No point in trying to use this one again today. Better put it to one side until it's cooled down and you can scour it out. Have you anywhere safe to put it? It's still red hot, and I don't want to spoil any worktops."

"Over here." Evan pointed to a wooden workbench, and Alex gratefully put it down.

"Have you got another the same size?"

"Yes." Evan unhooked an enamel saucepan from the wall rack and took a medium size pudding from the larder.

Alex looked at the label. "Marks and Spencers'. Very nice, too."

"I can't help thinking that Alex would despise me if she knew that I'd bought it," Evan said shamefacedly. "Caroline always made her own."

"Never mind that. The important thing is that you're giving her the best Christmas you possibly can." Alex removed the cellophane wrap and studied the instructions. "This needs to cook for two hours. It's close on noon now. What time are you planning to serve dinner?"

"Two o'clock."

"Fine. It'll be ready right on time. Put about three inches of water in that saucepan and bring it to the boil. Kitchen foil?"

"Here." Evan produced a roll from a cupboard and handed it to her.

She tore a piece off and handed the roll back to him. "String?"

He gaped slightly "_String?_"

"Yes. Just a short piece of thin twine, something to keep the foil on that won't melt in the heat."

"I'll get some." He vanished and returned a minute later with a ball of string and a pair of scissors. Alex had already folded the foil double and moulded it over the top of the bowl, and while Evan watched fascinatedly she bound a length of string around the bowl to hold the foil in place and tied a loop over the top.

"Right, now the water's boiled, you can lower it in." She picked up the pudding by the loop, using the kitchen tongs, and carefully lowered it into the seething water. "Keep it topped up, and it'll be ready at - " she checked her watch - "two o'clock. You can lift it out by the loop. It saves you having to drain the saucepan first."

_I learned that trick from Evan when I was young. I never wondered who taught it to him. _

"Thank you so much, Alex," Evan said gratefully. "You're a guardian angel, coming to the door like that just as I needed help. You've saved our dinner."

"Think nothing of it. I'm glad I could help."

"You've saved my reputation with Alex, too. I've been dreading that she'd come in and find me struggling. Thank goodness our visitor seems to be keeping her entertained."

Alex's heart missed a beat. "Visitor?"

"Yes, I'd have thought that he'd have told you - "

"Yes, I knew that DCI Hunt is coming here today. I helped him choose Alex's present. I didn't think he'd arrived yet, I didn't see his car outside."

Evan nodded wisely. "He told me that he'd parked it round the corner. He didn't want Alex to see it in case it reminded her of, of the explosion."

"Oh, that was good of him."

"Yes," Evan agreed. "Strange, I wouldn't have thought of a man like that having so much sensitivity."

"Oh, I think you'll find he's a man of hidden depths as well as hidden shallows." Anxious to change the subject, Alex glanced at the cooker. "Is everything else doing OK? Turkey, potatoes?"

"Fine the last time I looked, but thanks for the reminder, I'd better check them again." Evan cautiously opened the oven, and they peered inside.

"Could do with basting," Alex suggested. Evan nodded and bent down to haul the dish from the oven. Seeing that he was dealing with it quite capably, she added, "I'll just put the string back," picked up the ball of string and the scissors, and retreated into the hall. She well recalled the location of the string drawer, under the hall table. The living room door was directly opposite, and she moved quietly lest she should attract the attention of the occupants. As she opened the drawer and dropped the string and scissors inside, she was riveted by the sound of a voice she knew all too well.

"Let's see 'ow you like this, love.

_'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house_

_Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse..."_

Alex could not resist the temptation to peer around the door. A tall Christmas tree, loaded with lights, tinsel and decorations, with presents piled at its foot, stood in the bay window. _Just as it always did when I was a child. _She even recognised the decorations hanging from the branches and the old faience jug on the mantlepiece which held a huge bunch of holly. A bundle of mistletoe was suspended from the ceiling.

Her younger self sat in an armchair, looking very important and obviously taking her duties as hostess very seriously. Gene sat on the edge of the sofa, reading the well-known poem from a large picture book. Alex was enchanted. She had never thought of him as a storyteller, but he effortlessly assumed the character of the bewildered narrator who witnessed St Nicholas's visit and swept both Alexes into the tale he was telling. At the end, he closed the book with a flourish and little Alex clapped delightedly. Alex was strongly tempted to follow suit, but stopped herself. Neither Gene nor little Alex was meant to know that she was here.

"Oh, thank you, Gene Genie! That was lovely."

"Er, glad you liked it, love." Without another persona to hide behind, Gene suddenly appeared awkward and almost shy. He laid the book aside and picked up a teacup and saucer from the table in front of him. They looked absurdly small in his great hands. Little Alex's teacup stood on the coffee table, along with a plate of biscuits, which she picked up and offered to him.

_Bless the child - bless _me_ - she, I, remembered he likes pink wafers and Garibaldis._

"I'm so glad that you could come today, Gene Genie. Are you having a nice time?"

"Er, yeah, sure I am, sweetheart." Gene managed to make himself sound convincing. "Great. Nice of you to ask me over."

"It's a pity you couldn't bring anyone with you."

"Oh, er, well, wasn't asked." The psychologist in Alex instantly recognised the cadence in his voice. _He's lying._

"Really? I did tell Evan to tell you to bring a friend if you wanted." Little Alex had clearly rumbled him. _And he knows that if she asks Evan, he'll say that he _did_ tell him to invite a friend._

"Never mind," Gene mumbled. "Wouldn't 'ave been anyone, anyway."

"Oh, that's a shame." Little Alex was all compassion. _But then she, I, knew all about loneliness. _"Does that mean that you don't have any friends?"

"Nah, I'm a lone Lion, me. Comes with the job. Got to work long hours, don't 'ave the time for friends. Only people who get to see me are the ones who don't want to. Criminals an' coppers."

"But there are the people you work with. Aren't they your friends?" little Alex persisted.

"Well, yeah, some of 'em," Gene admitted reluctantly. _Now he knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of an interrogation. And she's, I'm, a mini lie detector. A psychologist even then. _"But, er, they've got their own friends an' family to go to for Christmas. Won't want me."

"Does that mean you don't even have a _girlfriend_?" Little Alex was aghast.

"Oh, no, nowt like that." Gene was turning as red as the Christmas turkey, and Alex could almost hear his toes curling with embarrassment.

"But what about that pretty lady at the station?"

"Oh, er, you mean DI Drake." Gene cleared his throat. "No, no, she's a colleague. I work with 'er, that's all."

"What a pity," little Alex said sadly. "I'd hoped that she might want to come with you today."

"Oh, no, no. She's a posh bird. Thing is, young 'un," he leaned forward confidentially, and little Alex followed suit, "when you're a bit older, you'll understand that posh birds like 'er don't mix with blokes like me who're common as muck. We're in different worlds, her an' me. She's far too good for the likes o' me."

_Oh, _am_ I?_ Suddenly Alex realised how very personal the conversation was becoming and how embarrassing it would be if she were caught eavesdropping. _I'd better get out of here fast._ She backed away, picked up the presents which she had left on the hall table in her dash to save the pudding, and was about to seek out Evan to hand them over and make her escape, when she heard his voice right behind her.

"Oh, Alex, I was wondering - "

Gene and little Alex both looked up to see Alex and Evan framed in the doorway. Gene's face wore more different emotions than she would have thought possible at one time. Little Alex jumped to her feet and clapped her hands with delight.

"It's the pretty lady!"

"Hello." Alex recovered as much of her self-possession as she could. "I'm DI Drake. I just called in to leave some presents for you and Evan." She held them out awkwardly.

Little Alex danced forward. "Please, pretty lady, won't you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, er, I - "

"It's going to be lovely," little Alex said enthusiastically. "We've got _Christmas pudding_!"

Alex permitted herself a smile. "I know."

"A - DI Drake has just been helping me with it," Evan admitted.

"Won't you stay?" little Alex begged. "Please say yes. Please do."

"Alex," Evan reproved gently. "DI Drake may have other plans for today."

Little Alex turned bright eyes upon her. "_Have_ you?"

Alex thought of the frozen turkey dinner awaiting her in the fridge at home. "Er, well, no, I don't actually."

"Then please won't you stay? The Gene Genie would like you to stay, wouldn't you?" Little Alex turned her most pleading gaze on Gene.

_Good God, was I ever really this manipulative when I was young? Well, yes, probably I was. I always could twist Evan around my little finger._

Gene turned red again. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Alex smiled. "Then I will. Thank you."

"Oh, _good_!" little Alex cried. "Please, won't you come and sit with us, and you can tell me all about catching criminals."

_Oh, help._ "But perhaps Evan needs some help in the kitchen?"

"No, I'll be fine to do everything now the pudding's under way", Evan said confidently. "Why don't you stay here and keep Alex company?"

"Thank you. I will."

**TBC**


	2. Woman to Woman

**A/N: Unfortunately I didn't find the rights to "Ashes to Ashes" in my Christmas stocking, so the BBC, Kudos and Monastic still own it. **

**"Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas" was written by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane. I quote the original lyrics as sung by Judy Garland in "Meet Me in St Louis", not the revised version first sung by Frank Sinatra.**

**The television schedule details for 25 December 1981 are taken from the UK Christmas TV website.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who's read Chapter 1, and especially those who have taken the time and trouble to review. As promised, here is the second and final chapter before the New Year. Again, feedback would be so very welcome!**

**I'm so grateful to everyone who has continued to read my stories during the long silences last year and this year. Next year, I will make every effort to restart my two currently unfinished stories. In the meantime, a very happy, healthy, wealthy, Ashy 2013 to one and all! **

Alex sat on the sofa beside Gene, very careful not to let their bodies touch. She could feel how rigid he was, though whether that was due to embarrassment or annoyance she could not tell. _Probably both._

Little Alex ceremoniously poured her a cup of tea, handed it to her, and regarded them both with bright eyes. They both had a feeling of being interviewed.

"So, you work together?"

"That's right, love." Gene recovered his self-possession first. "Drake 'ere's been on my team for the past six months, since she joined us in July."

"You catch a lot of criminals, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. Lots."

"Please, will you tell me some stories about being in the police?"

Alex was seized by an inspiration. _If I warn her, me, about Layton, maybe it'll save her, me, from being shot in 2008_. "What about our very first case together, Guv?"

"What was that?" little Alex said curiously.

"When I joined the team, the Guv was looking for a very bad man who was in charge of a big drug dealing operation. He'd arrested a man who appeared to be the kingpin. His name was Edward Markham. But I was convinced that Markham was the front man for the _real _kingpin."

Little Alex looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Drake means, er, that there was someone behind the scenes who was pulling all the wires," Gene explained. "Just imagine if one of your teachers was pretending to be in charge of the school, but the headmistress was staying at 'ome an' telling 'im 'or 'er exactly what to do."

Little Alex's face cleared. "Oh, I see. And was there another man?"

"Yes," Alex said impressively. "His name was Arthur Layton."

"Er - Drake - " Gene, who had not seen where this was heading, had turned quite pale. But little Alex, who had never heard of Layton or known any reason to fear him, listened with rapt attention.

"He was posing as a barrow boy with a junk shop," Alex went on. "Nobody took any notice of him, but he was the one controlling everything. The spider at the edge of the web."

"And did you catch him?" little Alex said breathlessly.

"Yes, we did. We'd found the place where Layton left messages for Markham, and I set two of our officers, Chris and Shaz, to leave a fake mesage for Markham and to watch him collect it and go to Layton's place. But Markham and his men kidnapped Shaz. The Guv had worked out that Layton was bringing his drugs in by the river, so we all had to rush down there to rescue her and arrest the bad men."

"And did you?" Little Alex was fascinated.

"Oh, yeah." Gene was into his stride now. "I split the team into three units to flush 'em out. Chris started firing too early, the twat, an' there was one bugger of a gun battle, bullets flying everywhere, we got pinned down an' Layton tried to get away with Shaz. Drake went after 'em, an' Ray, Chris an' I got hold of one of Layton's speedboats to come to the rescue."

"Yes, they looked like something out of a film." In spite of her annoyance at the time, Alex could chuckle at the memory, and her younger self was round-eyed. "The Guv opened fire and brought Layton down, and I handcuffed him. No more drug addicts on his patch."

"So he's in prison now?" little Alex said hopefully.

"Er, 'fraid not, sweetheart." Gene could not look at her. "His lawyer got him out on bail, an' he disappeared. Don't know where 'e is now."

"He's a dangerous man," Alex added. "You must keep clear of him. Remember that."

Little Alex's brow furrowed. "But surely that's wrong. It means that bad people aren't in prison, and they should be."

" 'Fraid so, love, but that's 'ow it goes."

Little Alex looked distressed. "But my Mummy and Daddy were lawyers. Does that mean that they did things like that?"

"They were _good_ lawyers," Alex said with a vehemence which startled Gene. "Remember that. Always."

"I will." Little Alex was near to tears.

"Don't you go thinking police work's always that glamorous, though," Gene added quickly. "Lot of the time we're dealing with routine casework an' small time villains. Scum of the earth. An' lots of boring paperwork, sod it." Alex resolved to have a word with him later about moderating his language when addressing a child. "Not all fun."

Little Alex's attention was gained again. "What sort of small villains?"

Alex searched her memory for another case suitable for their juvenile audience. "Well, there was the time we responded to a call about a robbery at a sub-post office..."

Reminiscences of past cases and cross-examinations about police procedure kept them fully occupied until Evan summoned them for dinner at two sharp. Everything, including the pudding, was perfectly cooked, and Alex felt enormously proud of him.

_I was too young at the time to realise the magnitude of what he was taking on. Maybe he didn't realise at first, either. But he came through for me, and I know that he'll do the same for Molly if he has to. But, please God, he won't have to._

After dinner, they returned to the living room and the presents around the tree. Little Alex insisted on distributing her own presents first, a painstakingly knitted but lopsided tie for Evan, which he would never be able to wear outside the house, and a bottle of single malt, undoubtedly bought by Evan on her behalf, for Gene. Alex thought of her own gift for Gene, still nestling in her jacket pocket, but she did not want it give it to him while the others were watching. Gene had, at her prompting, bought a bottle of wine for Evan, which he handed over with an expression which suggested that he wished that it were arsenic. Evan, rather pointedly Alex thought, had not bought anything for Gene.

"What's this?" Little Alex felt the smooth lines of the Barbie box beneath the coloured paper.

"That's DI Drake's present for you," Evan told her. "Say thank you, won't you?"

Little Alex raised shy eyes to her older self. "Thank you. Very much." She ripped off the wrapping paper and shrieked with delight. "Barbie! It's Barbie!"

"I hope it's what you want," Alex said gently. She dared not look Evan in the eye.

"Oh, yes, yes! Thank you!" She almost dismantled the box in her eagerness to extract the doll. "Look, Evan! She can sit down, and her legs bend!"

"Er, yes." Evan looked on, embarrassed, as little Alex proudly arranged her new acquisition to sit, legs crossed, on the arm of the chair. She looked up at Alex.

"Thank you. She's nearly as pretty as you, and you'd look lovely in that swimsuit!"

"Oh, really - " Alex didn't know what to say, and she could feel how Gene's eyes burned at the thoughts that her younger self's remark had conjured up.

"Just as pretty," Evan said diplomatically, and Gene's eyes blazed with murderous jealousy. "But, Alex, don't you want to look at the rest of your presents?"

Little Alex pounced on the shapeless parcel which Gene had left beside the tree for her, tore the paper away, and caught her breath in wonder. "It's my pony! Santa knew how much I wanted him!" She hugged it as though she would never let go and looked up at Evan. "Oh, Evan, and you said that Santa might not bring him!"

"I, ah, I only said that you shouldn't be too disappointed if he didn't," Evan temporised. "But there's one more present to come, and it's too big for Santa to bring in here. Come upstairs."

She obediently followed him out of the room and up the stairs, her new pony tucked under her arm, with Gene and Alex following. They halted in the playroom, where something large stood in front of the window, roughly shrouded in coloured wrapping paper. Little Alex stood in front of it, goggle-eyed.

"Well, care to unwrap it?" Evan suggested. She approached timidly and pulled at a corner of the paper. It had only been lightly fastened and came away at her touch to reveal an exquisite, hand-carved rocking horse, painted in the traditional dapple grey, with a cream horsehair mane and tail.

"Well, well," Gene muttered to Alex. "Great minds think alike, eh?"

She started guiltily, having forgotten that she had told him that her guardian had given her a rocking horse for her eighth Christmas. _This could be difficult._

"O-oh." Little Alex sounded more disappointed than pleased.

_Just as I was. Poor Evan. We've put his nose out of joint._ She leapt into the breach. "Oh, Alex, isn't he _beautiful_! What a lovely rocking horse! Aren't you lucky!"

"Y-yes." Little Alex still stood contemplating it. "Th-thank you, Evan." The words were spoken by rote.

"Yeah. Why not give 'im a test drive?" Gene suggested. "I'll 'old Hairy Horace 'ere for you." He gently took the pony from her arms, passed it to Alex, and lifted the little girl into the saddle. "Ride 'im, cowgirl!"

Thus encouraged, little Alex began to rock carefully, increasing in momentum as she gained in confidence, while the three adults watched with deep pleasure and cheered her on. She whooped with delight as the horse swung back and forth until at last she stopped, temporarily exhausted, bowed over the pommel of the saddle.

"Well done, love!" Gene lifted her off, cradling her in his arms as he had done on the day of the explosion. "Think you'd 'ave won the Grand National, riding like that."

She looked up at him. "What's the Grand National?"

"A very big 'orse race. Maybe you'll ride in it someday. You're gettin' in training already."

He carried her downstairs with Evan and Alex following behind. Evan looked deeply relieved.

"Thank God she likes it," he murmured to Alex. "The way she reacted at first, I was so afraid that she was disappointed."

"Just overawed, I think," Alex said consolingly. "It's a wonderful present for her." _And thanks to Gene, she's taken to it right away, as I didn't when I was eight. He's come to the rescue again._ "Just one thing -why are you calling me DI Drake all day? Have you forgotten my name suddenly?"

"Of course not. But don't you think it would confuse her to have two Alexes in the house?"

"Yes. It would. Thank you."

Gene reached the living room and carefully deposited little Alex in an armchair, just as the other two entered the room. As he straightened up, a small, gift-wrapped parcel fell from his pocket.

"Another present!" Little Alex pounced on it before anyone could stop her and ripped the paper off to reveal a small jewellery box. Gene looked utterly horrified.

"No, love, that's not - "

"Alex, I don't think it's for you - " Evan said at the same time.

Little Alex opened the box to reveal a delicate silver chain bracelet with the letters _Alex_ at the centre. "Yes, it is! Look, Evan, it _is_ for me!"

"No, but - " Gene began desperately.

"Of course it is," Alex said quickly. Her heart was beating wildly and her voice was none too steady. _He did think of me. He did get a present for me. But I can't disappoint her by saying that it's mine. _"Why don't you try it on?"

Little Alex took it from the box and draped it around her wrist. It was much too large. She found the clasp fiddly, and Alex helped her to fasten it.

"There. It suits you as if it was made for you."

Gene looked like a man who had given up all hope. Little Alex hugged him. "Thank you, Gene Genie. It's lovely!"

"Think nothing of it, sweetheart," he mumbled. He could not look at Alex.

Little Alex clearly understood that the situation was strained, without knowing why. She jumped to her feet and cried, "Let's play hide-and-seek!"

Evan, who looked exhausted after his morning in the kitchen, groaned, and Alex's blood ran cold. _Hide-and-seek. Hiding in the chest and Mummy finding me. The Clown finding me..._

"Yes, why not?" she forced herself to say brightly.

"Gene Genie, you're a detective, so you can be finder!" little Alex cried. Gene, who looked as though he wanted nothing more than to subside into an armchair and relax, nodded manfully.

"Righto, sweetheart. I'll count to five 'undred, then, ready or not, I'm coming after all of you. Starting NOW! One, two..."

He turned his back on the door, still counting, as little Alex shooed Evan and Alex out before darting upstairs.

"Hide where you'll be found at once," Alex suggested to Evan. "Then you can come back and sit down as soon as possible."

Evan nodded gratefully. "I'll take the kitchen cupboard." He headed off down the corridor, and Alex followed her younger self upstairs.

_Now, where can I hide? I can hardly go into Evan's room. God knows what Gene would think. Loft? No, it was nailed up until Evan had it turned into a bedsit for me in 1985..._

Thinking as she would have thought when she lived in this house, she gravitated to the walk-in toy cupboard in the playroom. It had been converted from a gentleman's dressing room, had its own ventilator and skylight, and was well concealed, as the door was flush to the wall and was covered with matching wallpaper, and the handle was small. There was a chance that it might take Gene some time to find her.

It was not until she opened the door and heard a small cry, that she realised that someone else might have had the same idea. Little Alex was already there, sitting on a toy chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's only me, DI Drake. I'll find somewhere else to hide."

"No, please. Will you stay?"

Alex was not proof against the appeal. Little Alex moved up for her, and she sat down on the chest beside her younger self. The little girl cuddled up to her, leaning her head on her shoulder, and Alex put an arm around her.

_So like my little girl, who's so far away._ Her heart ached at the thought.

"I'm glad it's you," little Alex said quietly. "I wanted to ask you something. I don't want to ask the Gene Genie."

"What's that?"

"Have - " Little Alex swallowed hard and began again. "Have you found the bad people who killed my Mummy and Daddy?"

Alex was pierced by a memory of Mrs Parkes asking Gene much the same question. She gave the same answer. "No, not yet. But we're doing everything we can, I promise." She thanked God that it was the truth. Layton was wanted for breaching his conditions of bail. If he was found, he would be arrested and go on trial for the drug, firearm and kidnapping offences for which she and Gene had originally nicked him. Alex knew that if he were arrested again, he might make allegations about the bombing, but with the video tape destroyed, he would have no proof. _More likely that he'd keep quiet and blackmail Evan. Just as he will in 2008._

"Thank you." Little Alex's voice was very small. "I know that you and the Gene Genie will find them if you can." She snuggled closer. "You like the Gene Genie a lot, don't you?"

"I - er - "

"You haven't said anything about it, but I know. Evan says that I'm good at understanding people. And the Gene Genie likes you a lot, too. Really a lot."

"Oh, er - do you think so?"

"Oh, yes. I only had to look at him when he was talking about you, and listen to what he said."

"Well, he didn't ask me to come here with him today," Alex temporised.

"That's because he was scared that you'd say no. You heard that bit. And he was scared to ask you if you'd stay. It's very silly of him, but men can be very silly sometimes, even clever men, don't you think? Grown-ups can make simple things so _complicated._"

"Yes." Alex bit her lip. How easy this child, her younger self, made it all sound. _How hard we adults all make it for ourselves._

"I love the Gene Genie. He's so nice and kind."

Neither were adjectives which Alex would have ascribed to her irascible superior officer. "Well... he's a bit different when one has to work with him every day."

"He held my hand and hugged me and carried me away from - from _there. _He called me _sweetheart_ and_ little lady._ He made it just a little tiny bit less awful. He was there when I needed him."

"Yes. He's everywhere. He was needed, and he was there."

Little Alex raised huge, trusting eyes to her. "I want to be a detective when I grow up. Just like him and just like you. I know ladies can be detectives, because you're one. Do you think I can, too?"

Alex's eyes dimmed with unshed tears. "Yes, dear. I'm sure you can. You've just shown how good you are at understanding people, and that will be a great help when you need to work out why people commit crimes and what sort of people commit them. What makes them commit the crime in the first place."

Little Alex frowned. "Like, if a man needs money and wants to steal it, would he rob a house or a bank, or kill someone to get it?"

"That sort of thing."

There was a short silence. "When I become a detective, do you think the Gene Genie would let me work for him?"

"Yes, my dear." She hugged little Alex. "He will. I know he will."

_Welcome on board, Inspector._

"I want to become a detective so that I can find out who killed my Mummy and Daddy," little Alex confided. Her lip trembled. "I miss them so much."

"So do I." A tear ran down Alex's face, and little Alex looked up in surprise.

"Did you know them?"

"Yes. I tried so hard to stop it happening, so hard..." She struggled to control herself. "You see, I lost my parents when I was your age, just like you..."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Little Alex burst into tears, and they wept together in each others' arms, for the old griefs and the new.

The door flew open, making them both jump, and a tall shadow loomed across them.

"Bloody 'ell! Look 'ere, White, two at one go!"

Alex was seized with a sudden, strong memory of Ray, Chris and Shaz finding herself and Gene in the vault, of the comfort of his warm, solid body and his arm around her, and of cool air on their heated skin as the door opened. An unexpected longing for him, deep and powerful, lanced through her. She ached to feel those strong arms around her again and his heart beating beneath her hand.

_The Gene Genie likes you a lot. Really a lot._

She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve and palmed a tissue to the little girl. "Well done, Guv." She stood, shielding little Alex from Gene's gaze to give her a chance to compose herself. Evan was hovering anxiously behind Gene. "You found us."

"Yeah, an' what is this? Meeting of the local branch of the Womens' Union? Been dancing round your 'andbags while we've been wearing ourselves to shadows searching the 'ouse from top to bottom for you both?"

Little Alex looked up, surprised. "B-but w-we haven't got any handbags," she hiccupped.

"It's a figure of speech," Alex said hastily as Gene picked the little girl up again and carried her out of the room and down the stairs.

"Got lonely without us, did you, love? Never mind, there's a big 'anky in my top pocket. Give your nose a good big blow on that an' you'll feel better..."

"She was telling me about her parents," Alex softly explained to Evan as they followed Gene down.

Evan sighed. "Thank you. She won't talk to me about them, and she goes off to cry without telling me. I'm sure it's helped her to talk to you."

"If it's helped, I'm glad."

"I guessed where she would be hiding," he admitted. "She always goes there. I told Hunt, and he stopped for a cigarette before coming to find you, so that she could think that she'd baffled him."

"Good man."

They reached the living room to find Gene settling little Alex onto the sofa, drying her eyes with his handkerchief and putting her new pony in her lap.

"There you go, love. That's a special police transport service."

Evan vanished and returned with a tray, glasses and a plate of mince pies. "Do you want some lemonade, Alex?"

She obviously did, and Evan opened one of his new bottles of wine for himself, Gene and Alex. They all gratefully sat down to recover, and Evan switched the TV on for a programme of carols and seasonal music from the Royal Albert Hall. They settled down to watch. Alex noticed how closely little Alex cuddled up to Gene, with his arm around her and her head on his shoulder, hugging her new pony as though she would never let it go. She felt almost jealous of the child.

_Now, how ridiculous is that, feeling jealous of myself when young?_

But she didn't feel jealous. Not at all. All she wanted, needed from her Guv was what he had given her when she was a child. Comfort, strength, security. What he had given her in the vault. What he was giving little Alex now. Nothing more.

The carols were followed by the Queen's Christmas broadcast, with its emphasis on the contribution made by the disabled to society and on the need for courage in its different forms.

_Courage. Poor child, she'll need that. She's just lost her parents, and she doesn't know what a disaster her life's going to be. Pete dumping her, dealing with life as a single mother, the shooting... Oh, God. That poor, poor kid._

_But maybe, just maybe, things will be different for her than they were for me. I couldn't stop my parents being killed, and now I know why. But I've managed to change small things here today. My presence here. The pony, the Barbie doll. Everything is significant. Maybe what I've done will be enough to start changing her future for the better. Just maybe._

At around 8.00, Gene glanced at his watch.

"Sorry to 'ave to leave you, sweetheart, but I'd better go soon. Drake an' I are both on duty tomorrow, an' I'm looking in at the station before I go 'ome."

Little Alex looked bereft. "Oh, I'm so sorry you have to go!"

"Me too, love, but cockney scum never sleep. First thing a copper learns."

"I want to be a copper one day," she told him proudly. "DI Drake says I can."

He glanced at Alex, and then down at her. "Yeah. Reckon you'll be a right good little copper, an' all."

"And when I do, can I work with you?"

He pouted, considering the question with the seriousness it deserved.

"Yeah, I don't see why not. You've already got an advanced interviewing technique, an' if you don't know what that means, just ask my esteemed lady colleague."

The child's hero-worshipping gaze was his reward. Feeling uncomfortable, he turned to Alex. "Care for a lift 'ome, Drake?"

"Yes, please, Guv. Thank you." She did not particularly relish the thought of being subjected to his driving skills, especially on a day when the emptiness of the streets would encourage him to pile on the speed, but she guessed that he wanted to talk to her in private.

While Gene visited "the little boys' room", Alex and Evan retrieved the coats from his bedroom.

"Thank you so much for coming," he said quietly, "and please thank Hunt for me. I know that he won't want me to thank him in person. I can't tell you what a help you've both been. She's been so withdrawn since the blast. The two of you have done so much to bring her out of herself."

"I'm glad," Alex whispered. "So glad. Just one thing."

"Anything."

"Let her see the ballet."

"What ballet?"

"London Festival Ballet are on BBC2 at 9.25. I know it's late for her to be up, but - "

"It's Christmas, after all," Evan finished for her. "Deal."

"What is?" Gene demanded, joining them and taking his coat from Alex.

"Letting her see the ballet on TV tonight," Alex explained.

_I was desperate to see it, and I was so afraid that Evan wouldn't let me stay up. He did, but there's no harm in making sure that he does here, too._

"Oh." Gene did not sound altogether convinced. He put his coat on. "Ready, Drake?"

"Ready, Guv."

Little Alex was waiting for them as they descended the stairs, her pony still tucked under her arm. She was trying very hard not to cry.

"G-g-goodbye." She shook Gene's hand very formally. "Th-thank you for coming - " and she launched herself into his arms and clung to him as though she would never let go.

"Hey, hey, what's all this, sweetheart? I'm not off on a moonshot. An' you know, I'll always be back if ever you need me." He gently disengaged himself, crouched in front of her, and took her hands in his. " 'Bye, little lady. Remember, any problems, you just call the Gene Genie."

She nodded bravely. "Always."

He cleared his throat, stood up, and turned away, clearly more moved than he would care to admit. Little Alex turned to Alex and shook hands with her. "Goodbye, pretty lady. Thank you for coming. And please remember what I said."

"Ah - what's that?"

Little Alex beckoned to her to bend down and whispered in her ear, "He likes you a lot."

Alex straightened up and looked down at her. "Yes, I will. Thank you."

"What's that?" Gene demanded suspiciously.

Alex permitted herself a secretive smile, the same as she had given him when he had asked her cup size. "Girls' talk. Boys not allowed. Little _or_ big." Beside her, little Alex nodded proudly, radiating female solidarity, and slipped a small hand into hers. Alex swallowed hard, longing for Molly threatening to overwhelm her.

They left the house, to calls of "Merry Christmas!" from little Alex and Evan, and Gene led the way to the Quattro, parked around a corner to the left. Alex felt distinctly apprehensive. _What is he going to say about my eavesdropping earlier today?_ To her surprise, he backed the car out and swung it round.

"This isn't the way back to the station."

"Promised 'er I'd drive the car past the 'ouse," Gene muttered, embarrassed. "She wanted to see it again." A few moments later, they passed the house, driving slowly for once, so that they could see, and Alex could wave to, the small figure waving from the living room window.

"God bless you, Gene," Alex said softly, once the house was out of sight.

"Oh?" Gene regarded her suspiciously. "An' what 'ave I done to deserve that unexpected vote of confidence?"

"You've made a lonely little girl's Christmas. It could have been a nightmare, but you've made it into a day which will have nothing but happy memories for her."

"Yeah, well, you 'elped," Gene muttered, embarrassed. They had turned into another street, and suddenly he pulled the car into a parking space and turned to look at her. "What the bloody 'ell were you doing there, anyway?"

_Now for it._ "I only intended to visit to drop off a present for little Alex," she said honestly. "But when I arrived, I found Evan White about to set the kitchen on fire with his attempts to cook the pudding. I got it off the heat before it could catch and showed him how to cook its replacement. I was just about to leave when I passed the living room and heard you reading to her, and I couldn't resist listening in."

"Felt like I was on bloody _Jackanory_," Gene grumbled. "Look, Bols - what you 'eard me say after that - "

"It isn't true," she said gently.

"What isn't?"

"You keep talking about our class differences, but they make no difference at all to a person's worth. What you've done for her, today and before, proves that. After all, I'm meant to be the socially superior one, but it was I who eavesdropped. I'm sorry about that. It was unpardonable."

"You 'eard something else too." He could not look at her.

"If you mean that you were told to invite someone, then you're quite right. If you'd asked me beforehand, I wouldn't have accepted. But as things turned out, I'm so glad that I was there. I enjoyed the day so much, and so did she."

"Yeah, well..." Gene was clearly relieved that she was not offended by his failure to invite her. "Usually you're all over kids, but when I carried 'er into the station, you just froze. Kept right away from 'er an' never said a word, hardly even looked at 'er. Didn't want that to 'appen again."

Alex was astonished. _You make yourself out to be an uncaring bastard, yet you can be so sensitive and understanding. I've never thought how surprised you must have been, when I made no attempt to comfort a shocked, terrified little girl. But you can never know why._

"Well, it didn't, did it?"

"No, you an' 'er got on like a house on fire. Right little old pals' act."

There was a short silence, and there was obviously something else he wanted to say.

"Drake. Er - That bracelet." He was looking fixedly at the steering wheel. "It, um, it was, er, it was your present."

"I know," Alex said gently.

He looked at her sharply. "_How_?"

"Because you'd already given little Alex a present. The one I bought for you. And the bracelet was far too big for her."

"If you knew, then why didn't you bloody say something?"

"Because I couldn't let her be disappointed on Christmas Day. It's a day about the birth of a child, it's a day for children. Today was about her, not about me. That's what's important."

"But I should 'ave given it to you," Gene persisted.

"Strangely enough, Gene, I feel as though you did." Her smile was the best Christmas present he could have asked for. "It's the thought that counts, not the gift. Thank you so much for thinking of me. I appreciate it more than I can say."

"Y'welcome," he mumbled.

"Please, take me home."

_What you think is my home, anyway. Not my real home._

They were silent on the drive back to the station. Gene parked the car and turned to look at Alex.

"Well, 'ere you are, Bols. Door to door delivery on a bank 'oliday."

"Will you come up to the flat for a while?" She was almost shy. "I've got a bottle of single malt that requires your opinion."

"Ta. Don't mind if I do."

A few minutes later, they were ensconced on the striped sofa, with a bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses on the coffee table in front of them. Alex poured out the whisky, handed one glass to Gene, and picked up the other herself.

"Merry Christmas, Gene."

"Merry Christmas, Bols."

They clinked glasses and drank.

"Hm. Not bad. May need another glass before I'm able to give an informed opinion."

"Help yourself. In the meantime - " she produced the small parcel which she had retrieved from her jacket pocket. "Merry Christmas."

"Oh, Bols." He seemed to be genuinely touched. "You're naughty."

She smiled. "I know."

"But you're very kind. Thank you." He tore the paper away to reveal a small jewellery box, and turned to her, one eyebrow raised. "Hope it isn't another bracelet?"

"You're a detective. You know the only way to find out, is to look."

He grunted and opened the box to reveal the small gold pendant, engraved with the figure of a rampant lion. A huge grin spead across his face from ear to ear.

"Look on the back."

He removed it from its box and turned it round. On the back was engraved _The Manc Lion. _

"You've found the perfect present for the perfect man, Bols. Thanks." He carefully replaced it in the box, undid his gold chain, threaded the pendant onto the chain, and re-fastened it around his neck. "There. I'm the Manc Lion. It says so on my chain."

"I'm glad you like it." She poured them both more whisky, rose, walked over to the sound system, inserted a tape of Christmas favourites, and pressed Play. Bing Crosby's voice crooning _White Christmas_ filled the air.

"Oh, bloody 'ell," Gene groaned. "Didn't we 'ave enough of that this afternoon?"

"Christmas spirit, Guv," she retorted with mock severity, returning to sit beside him. "Something which you still seem to be lacking."

"I'm more interested in the spirits in front of me." He helped himself to his glass.

Half an hour later, with three-quarters of the bottle inside them and the Christmas music still playing softly in the background, they were contentedly relaxed on the sofa. Alex had settled against his shoulder, half-asleep, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, and somehow his arm had found its way around her. She told herself that this was all she wanted, needed from him. Comfort, strength, security. What he had given her in the vault. What he had given little Alex that afternoon. But, cuddling into his warm body, she was no longer so sure that it was enough for her.

_You like the Gene Genie a lot, don't you? You haven't said anything about it, but I know.  
_

_And the Gene Genie likes you a lot, too. Really a lot._

_I love the Gene Genie. He's so nice and kind...  
_

The sound of Judy Garland's voice singing _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ floated across her consciousness.

_...Someday soon _

_We all will be together_

_If the fates allow_

_Until then _

_We'll have to muddle through somehow_

_So have yourself _

_A merry little Christmas now._

Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Someday soon we'll be together, Molly," she whispered. "I promise." She half-opened her eyes to see Molly smiling at her from the television screen.

"Merry Christmas, Mummy." The image vanished and the screen went blank.

The tape ended. Gene glanced down at Alex, snuggling against him, and found that she was fast asleep, her cheeks wet with tears.

"Bols? C'mon, better get you to bed. Been quite a day, 'asn't it? Bols? Wake up, love..."

But she slept on. She never felt him tenderly laying her down on the sofa, easing her boots off, settling a pillow beneath her head, and covering her with the blue blanket, tucking it around her so that she would not be cold when she awakened. She did not hear him murmur, "Good night, Bols. Merry Christmas," or feel the soft, longing kiss on her brow, just where the bullet had penetrated, or hear the click of the front door as he stole out of the flat, leaving her to her dreams.

Across the town, Evan tucked little Alex into bed. She was wearing flannelette pyjamas printed with snowmen and still cuddled her pony, whom she had decided to call Blaze because he had a white blaze on his nose.

"Good night, Gene Genie. Good night, pretty lady. Merry Christmas," she murmured as she fell asleep.

**THE END**


End file.
